Down By Law
by andquitefrankly
Summary: It's been nearly a decade since Tony Stark released an LP. A war veteran and a rock and roll founder to boot, he's not the man he used to be, or the musician anyone wants on their radio. The Odinsons, a rock duo fresh off the boat, are what people want. In order to make his way back on the charts Tony'll have to change his music; possibly with a little help from the competition.
1. 1965

**1965**

Tony stood in the doorway in nothing but his open bathrobe and glared angrily at Pepper Potts who shoved him aside, ignoring his dirty looks as she began cleaning up. He had been in a mood for months and Pepper was tired of it.

"Get cleaned up," she told him, opening his fridge before closing it not seconds later. Pepper wrinkled her nose in disgust. "How do you live like this?" she asked, not expecting an answer from her client.

"What for?" Tony asked, finding a half empty beer bottle and downing it, gagging at the lukewarm taste. "I've got nowhere to be."

"Wrong," Pepper told him. "I convinced Fury to let you back into the studio."

Tony laughed, running a hand through his hair, plopping down into a chair. Good old Pepper. Always looking out for him. He shook his head, getting those thoughts out of his head. What was he thinking? No one cared about him anymore. He was washed up. Old news.

He couldn't keep up with the new kids, though it hurt for him to admit it. "No thanks," Tony said, making his way back to his bedroom.

"Tony," Pepper started.

"No," he growled. "I'm not going back." He wrapped himself in his blankets, hoping that Pepper would get the hint and leave. "I'm retired," he reminded her.

"You're being a baby."

"Am not," Tony muttered, just as Pepper ripped off the blankets, proving, once again, that he had no say in their professional relationship.

* * *

Tony slammed the door of his Chevy in protest, following Pepper obediently. Her hair was perfect and her heels made a wonderfully annoying clacking sound on the pavement. It made Tony grind his teeth.

He knew things were going to be different. He had gone to war knowing that, and when he came back, he was right. Music changed. People changed.

He changed.

There was a gaping hole in his chest, band-aid together with luck and a little bit of intuition. His father headed the Manhattan Project, for pete's sake. People were always surprised to hear that he had graduated with summa cum laude at MIT when he was 17 years old.

Then again, when you decide to go into rock and roll instead of the family business (if that's what you could call Stark Industries), it's much simpler to write you off as a block head.

SHIELD was just like Tony remembered. Large and impersonal. Albums lined the walls of the waiting room and hallways, gold records and smiling faces of those who had made a quick buck for the studio. It was disgusting. And he couldn't have been more disgusted when he saw his own face grinning back down at him, a cruel reminder of who he had been.

"Who's that?" Tony asked, staring up at an album with silhouetted figures, one large, the other small. No band name. Nothing. Very strange, as far as record albums went.

"The Odinsons," Phil Coulson told him, coming seemingly from nowhere. Tony, used to his sneaky ways, nodded his head absently. The Odinsons… Tony had never heard of them. "Just signed them," Phil Coulson said, answering Tony's unvoiced question.

He stared up at the album as Phil and Pepper chatted quietly in the background.

* * *

The day was cloudy and rainy, and unbearably humid. Loki felt like throwing himself out the window and onto the shrieking girls standing beneath his balcony. He lit another cigarette, closing his eyes and laying comfortably on the couch.

"Brother," Thor interrupted. Loki pressed his hand to his head, cursing under his breath. Two minutes. He only wanted two minutes.

"God, what?" Loki snapped, taking a long drag of his cigarette, praying that Thor would say what he wanted and get lost.

But if Thor's giant smile had any say in the matter, it was obvious that wasn't going to happen. "We're going to have a visitor," he buzzed with excitement.

"Who?" Loki asked, sitting up. That meant he'd actually have to put on clothes. Damn it. It was official. He was never again coming to New York in August.

"Tony Stark!" Thor boomed. Ah. Well… that would explain Thor's eagerness. Or rather, over eagerness. Thor was always eager. It was one of his most infuriating qualities. Among others, of course.

"Really?" Loki asked, feigning disinterest. "What on earth for?"

Thor shrugged, not caring for the reason his idol, the man he worshipped for years before going into rock and roll himself, wanted to meet them. Two barely famous rock and rollers from London.

Sure they had their over eager fans, but it was nothing compared to The Beatles or The Rolling Stones or Herman's Hermits. Even Dusty Springfield had a larger following than The Odinsons.

"What time?" Loki asked, hoping that he could still lounge for a little bit longer.

"Now," Clint Barton, their manager, announced, stepping into the hotel room, a very cool and relaxed Tony Stark behind him.

Loki slunk down into the couch. Damn it.

"Nice sheet," Stark smirked, eyeing Loki beneath a pair of outdated sunglasses.

There he was. Tony Stark. The rock and roller that started it all.

He remembered the first time he had heard Stark come on the radio. He and Thor both never looked back after that. How could they? Elvis was brilliant, and Chuck Berry could do it like no other, but Tony Stark.

The loud talking, obnoxious, shiny toothed, and personable musician just seemed to call to you. His voice dripped sex and his guitar playing exceeded anything Loki or Thor had ever imagined. Elvis had his pelvis, but Tony Stark just had to show up and the girls dropped their knickers, no gyrating necessary. Though no one would complain if he decided to.

Loki huffed, but extended his hand in greeting anyway. "Loki," he introduced himself. Tony shook the hand, before turning to his brother. "And Thor," Loki continued. "Pleasure."

"All mine," Tony murmured, looking around the room, his eyes falling on the bar in the corner. "Can I?" he asked, already grabbing a bottle of brandy and pouring himself a drink, no permission necessary.

Clint raised an eyebrow at Loki's lack of wear, but didn't say anything. A sheet was much better than him being naked, which Clint had witnessed more times than he'd ever like to admit.

Thor joined Tony at the bar and the two began chatting away, as Loki watched from the couch, refusing to move.

When Stark left, an hour or so later, Thor shot Loki a look of pure happiness, that he couldn't help but smile back. It seemed this childhood hero didn't let them down. Loki didn't have the heart to tell Thor that Stark was only checking out his competition.

Everyone knew that Stark was trying to get back into music. But things had changed. It'd been nearly seven years since he had released an album. The war had stunted his career, while the rest of the world plowed on.

Nobody was listening to rockabilly anymore. Sure, there were a few who were hanging on tight. But you had to move on. Rock and roll was well and truly dead.

Now there was this music. The sound of The Byrds, The Animals, Bob Dylan, and The Temptations. The Odinsons. There was no room on the charts for Tony Stark.

And everyone knew it.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So technically I'm still on hiatus. At least for TCOLO, but I get stupid plot ideas all the time and I hate myself so I wrote this down. I'm thinking maybe four chapters for this fic. It's going to span... twenty years, maybe. I hope you guys enjoy this fic. It just lets me show off my useless knowledge of the 50s, 60s, and 70s and my need for more historical frostiron au. So yeah. :)

Aardvark!


	2. 1966

**Author's Note**: In this chapter there are some racial slurs. And cursing (but that's basically always). Uh... that's it I think.

* * *

**1966 **

"Turn off that bullshit," Tony barked, unplugging the radio and cutting off the vocalizing harmonies of The Lovin' Spoonful. At least he didn't throw it, Happy mused as he poured himself another cup of coffee. God, he was tired.

Three days. Three days he'd been shut up in the studio with Tony who was moody, sullen, and downright hostile. Of course, Tony had been here longer. Two weeks. Maybe more. Pepper refused to let him go home until he sat down and wrote something. Anything. It didn't even have to be good.

But Tony did nothing but bite off the head of anyone who approached; of anyone who so much as shot him a pitying look. Rhodey had left the studio Thursday morning with a black eye and a sour face.

Happy was pretty lucky in that regard. The two men had yet to come to blows, but Tony was losing fuse quickly. It seemed his decision to listen to what was popular now wasn't his smartest move.

"Fuckin' febs," Tony continued, storming around the small room he had been locked in. His hair was a greasy mess and he had several days growth of facial hair. His hands shook mildly, his body feeling the effects of days without a single drink. "Stupid, fucking, tea-wops."

Happy took another long draught of coffee. "They're American," he commented, setting aside his cup and picking up his pen.

Tony stopped his pacing to glare at Happy. "I don't give a shit," he growled. "They all sound the same. Whiny voices begging for love. Boys playing at men. Fuck!" He grabbed an empty coffee mug and threw it at the wall.

He inhaled deeply, running his hands through his hair, slicking it upwards and sideways, not caring that he looked like a madman. "I need to get out of here," Tony said, turning around and abandoning Happy to clean up his mess in peace.

* * *

Loki tapped his pen incessantly against his notepad, legs up on the mixing console as Thor plucked at the melody of their newest song. Well it would be, if Loki could think of the fucking words.

They'd been in the studio the past week, hoping that inspiration would hit Loki, but to no avail. All he managed to do in that time was think of new insults for Thor and hit on Clint to the point where he refused to speak to either brother until the song was written. Honestly, Clint was too sensitive.

"Brother," Thor said, stopping his playing and hugging his guitar to his chest.

Loki hummed in response. What rhymed with dark?

There was a rustling sound and suddenly a piece of paper was thrust into Loki's eyeline. He side eyed it, before looking to Thor. He appeared a bit nervous, but was confident. There was going to be a fight, no doubt about it.

"What's this?" Loki asked, knowing full well what it was. Why couldn't Thor stick with what he was good at?

"A song," Thor answered, opening the sheet and putting it in front of Loki. "I thought that we could use it."

Loki inhaled deeply, the ink in his pen blotting his notepad at how hard he was pressing it down. "Thor, what was our agreement?"

"You are clearly struggling," Thor continued, ignoring Loki's jab. He knew he was no wordsmith. Not like Loki, but he could write songs. "And why suffer when I have already words here?"

"We are popular because of my words," Loki hissed, "Not yours. We'd fall into decay if we used your songs. They'd confuse us for someone as lackadaisical as the Beach Boys."

Thor stood, anger distorting his features. "Your pride is getting us nowhere!"

"Stick with what you are good at, Thor," Loki replied, throwing his pen across the room and marching out of the control booth.

They had this argument every few weeks or so, and it always ended in the same way. Loki would leave to cool off and when he returned, Thor wouldn't bring up the subject again. They'd have a new song written by Loki and everything would work out just fine.

Loki wandered the halls of SHIELD, ignoring the pointed looks he got from secretaries and agents. He was allowed to cool off if he wanted to. He wondered if they had all heard the argument. He certainly hoped none of them had. Loki was on thin ice with the studio, Nick Fury, as it was.

He never really did well with authority. Or dicks who wore eye patches.

Mainly the latter.

A familiar riff echoed in the hallway, and Loki was pulled from his murderous thoughts. He followed the sound, humming the words under his breath.

The guitar was heavy. Real heavy. Like Loki fell into forge, and repeatedly beat on the chest with a hammer. It felt good. It felt right.

He turned a corner only to find Tony Stark sitting on a couch, an electric guitar in his lap, hooked up to an old amplifier, in one of the older studios.

"The only girl I care about has gone away. Looking for a brand new start," Tony sung quietly, drawn out and husky, sending chills down Loki's spine.

This was the man Loki remembered from his childhood.

Stark looked up to find Loki standing in the doorway and stopped his playing. "What do you want?"

"The Cascades," Loki said.

"Yeah?" Tony asked, as if to say, _what about it? _He stared up at Loki expectantly, but Loki didn't move, he just stared back at Stark. "Look, kid –"

"Why'd you stop?"

Tony blinked. "Maybe I don't like giving free shows to long haired weirdos."

Loki ran a hand through his hair with a huff, smirking as he walked into the room and fell into a chair opposite Tony. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one out before remembering his manners. He held the pack out to Stark and asked, "Want one?'

Stark shook his head and Loki shrugged, lighting his cigarette and throwing the pack on the coffee table in front of him, stretching out his long legs.

"Don't stop on my account," Loki told him, taking a deep drag, waving away the smoke as he exhaled. Tony rolled his eyes, but took up his guitar again, picking up where he left off.

"But little does she know when she left that day, along with her she took my heart," Tony finished, going into the interlude as Loki relaxed.

Listening to Stark play was like lying in a thundercloud. It shook Loki to the core, and oh how he loved it. He wouldn't admit it, of course, but talent was talent, and Stark was the best. Age and time hadn't changed that. The war hadn't injured his hands, mangle or cripple him. He was as hale and whole as he could possibly be.

There was no excuse for him not be on the radio; for him not to be releasing LPs left and right. This – this was what people wanted to hear. God, it cut deep. It was like Stark was looking into your soul and wasn't that a frightening thought. Or maybe it was just Loki's soul.

He really couldn't tell at that moment.

"Heavy," Loki murmured around his cigarette, eyes closed as he let his arms dangle out to his sides.

"What?" Stark asked, repeating the refrain.

Loki opened his sleepy eyes and repeated, "Heavy."

Tony snorted, tossing the guitar aside and shutting off the amp. "What're you doing here, Cher?" he asked, sitting forward, elbows resting on knees.

"Very clever," Loki drawled, "Guitar Slim."

"Ouch," Tony scoffed, holding a hand to his chest. "You know how to wound a guy."

"It's my most endearing quality," Loki informed him, grounding out his cigarette in an ashtray. "Just ask Thor."

Tony snatched the pack of cigarettes before Loki could grab it and pulled out a cigarette for himself. "Don't mind if I bum a smoke, do ya?" With a grin he tossed the pack back to Loki, who in turn tossed him the matches. Stark put the cigarette in his mouth but didn't light it. "I knew Guitar Slim." He pulled out the fag and twisted it in his fingers. "Fucking shame."

They grew quiet then, a moment of silence, perhaps. It was the way things were. When you couldn't make it in the business. You rotted away until you were nothing. How many more years before they forgot Stark's name? Or Loki's?

Tony picked up the guitar again and just held it. It looked right there. Like it belonged. Unlike in Loki's arms where it was a wonky contraption. He could play, sure, but just passably. Thor was the musician. God could he play. He used to sit in front of the television and copy Stark's every move. Elvis, Chuck Berry, anyone he could.

Loki knew he'd be nothing without Thor, and it angered him to his core. If Thor suddenly started writing his own songs, where would that leave Loki? He'd just be another Guitar Slim.

"How's the record coming along?" Loki asked.

Tony chuckled under his breath, running a tired hand through his hair. "It ain't. And it never fucking will," he answered. "I'm washed up."

"Drowning in an empty pool," Loki mused.

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" Stark replied.

"Yeah," Loki said. "I know."

Stark lit his cigarette and just let it sit in his mouth. "I thought I was depressed before you showed up." He ran his fingers over the strings of his guitar before starting over the song from before.

Loki sat up and took a good long look at Stark. "Why don't you play like that?"

"Thought that was what I was doing," Tony pointed out with a grin.

"In the studio."

Tony stopped his playing and blinked. "Nobody wants to listen to this bullshit."

"Yeah," Loki said, "they do."

Tony scoffed. "Don't think so, kid. You told me so yourself, remember?"

Not Loki's best moment, but he was angry, and wrapped in bed sheet, and Tony had strode into their hotel room like he owned the place. "I was smashed."

"So was I," Tony countered. He sighed, rubbing at his temple. "Look, don't you have something better to do than talk to a has been?"

"Yes, actually," Loki admitted. "But the Stones would murder their grandmother to play like you do."

He squashed his cigarette, already dead in his hand and grinned at Stark. "Don't be a square, Stark," Loki told him. "It doesn't suit you."

* * *

Later that evening, Loki penned a new song, about a man who was lost without a vision in sight. Thor didn't bring up his song again and Loki felt only a tiny bit guilty. But they had a deal. And they weren't allowed to go against it.

Tony returned to the studio surprisingly calm, a guitar in hand, and a new tune in his head. Happy was unbelievably shocked to see him so hard at work. He had asked, of course, where he had gone, but Tony kept mum on the subject.

Whatever the cause, Happy was glad to find Tony was back in the saddle.

* * *

**Author's Note**: The song that Tony plays is Rhythm of the Rain by the Cascades. And Guitar Slim was a guitarist of the 40s and 50s. Basically he was using distorted guitar before Hendrix. What what!

Questions, comments, hate me? Let me know ;)  
Aardvark!


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